


What Joy Here is Left

by Aipilosse



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Dwarves, Gen, Gwaith-i-Mírdain, Happy Beginnings, M/M, Mushrooms, Ost-in-Edhil, Pipeweed, Politics, Recreational Drug Use, Second Age, Smoking, Sports, Unease over people turning into stars, Unspoken 'I love you's, can't believe they don't have a tag!, people who don't interact in canon but they really should
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 02:20:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 5,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29834538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aipilosse/pseuds/Aipilosse
Summary: A collection of scenes, mostly from the Second Age, from the lives of the elves of Eregion. First posted on tumblr as answers to prompts.1) "The Place" - a happy beginning for Coroniel (Gen)2) "The Carrot" - Narvi is uneasy in Ost-in-Edhil (Gen)3) "The Match" - Galadriel shows her competitive side (Gen)4) "The Compromise" - Celeborn's political difficulties (Gen)5) "The Mushroom" - Annatar makes a mistake (Silvergifting)6) "The Ring" - Their shared love language is creation (Silvergifting)7) "The Star" - Celebrimbor and Coroniel when everything should be going well (Silvergifting)8) "The Comparison" - Post-reincarnation, Celebrimbor catches Aredhel up on how her cousin Galadriel is doing (Gen)9) "The Hobbits" - Bilbo is happy to share shire customs with Celebrimbor and Coroniel (Gen)
Relationships: Celebrimbor | Telperinquar & Original Female Character(s), Celebrimbor | Telperinquar/Sauron | Mairon
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	1. The Place

**Author's Note:**

> For [Siadea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siadea/pseuds/Siadea), who needed to know if Coroniel survived the First Age.

Coroniel paused for a moment to catch her breath. It had been a long day. They had started east early that morning from the Sindarin village they had stayed in the night before, traveling along the dirt road that ran next to the Glanduin. When the sun was at its zenith, they had finally met up with the Khazad-dûm dwarves they had been exchanging letters with for years. It had been a merry meeting, and they had stopped for over an hour for each to praise the other party with many toasts. Her Stomach full and head light with the potent spirits the dwarves had brought with them, Coroniel had thought it was an excellent time for a midday nap, but apparently for the dwarves, full stomachs and light heads were the perfect conditions for a long march. 

As they walked at a brisk pace, they had alternated between walking songs, light hearted jests, and the more serious business they had journeyed all the way from Mithlond to discuss. They had finally made camp as the shadows began to lengthen and the light took on a golden quality. 

Their discussions became more serious then, as they talked about the details of the formal mithril trade they wanted to start. 

“Trading you our excess mithril is all well and good,” said Lamlim, one of the senior dwarves in the party, and not one who Coroniel had met personally before. “But what you’re asking for would mean we’d have to smith less of it ourselves, and we are the best smiths in the world. What makes you think you are worthy of our greatest resource?” There had been some mutters of agreement from the other dwarves and outraged bristling from some of the Mithlond elves.

Bilran just winked at Celebrimbor. Clearly he had been anticipating this question and had no doubt been scheming with Celebrimbor for years via letters on how they would answer the challenge. 

“The craft of the Khazâd is excellent and I would not want to deprive the world of your fine work,” Celebrimbor answered. “But we also have some skill in metalworking, and see great potential to refine mithril even further, so that it becomes the most beautiful and coveted substance on Middle-earth.”

With that, he drew out a gorget he had crafted out of mithril. The dwarves fell completely silent as they passed the piece of armor from person to person, looking at the delicate traceries, feeling the strength of the metal, and marveling at the gleaming surfaces. Bilran was almost bursting with glee — clearly Celebrimbor had shown him the gorget before this moment. They were certainly going to get the trade agreement they had set out to make. 

After the first stunned silence, the floodgates had opened and the dwarves began bombarding Celebrimbor with questions about how he had elevated the already lovely mithril to even greater strength and beauty. 

Coroniel left the party then, content to let Celebrimbor and the other smiths answer their questions. She continued up the hill, finally reaching a flat outlook with a good view of the river below and the mountains ahead. 

She ran her hand over a nearby boulder. It was good limestone; they wouldn’t have to go far to quarry enough for their needs. She looked at the towering mountains that created a very familiar wall to the east. They were good; she liked mountains. The river though, that was what made this the perfect spot. The land was mostly open, but trees grew along the river, and she thought that there many types that could be planted in the stony soil in the future.

Coroniel turned her back to the river and let her gaze become unfocused. Multi-colored tiled roofs and soaring towers danced before her eyes. They could build high here, and create a city as tall as Gondolin had been, especially with their new found knowledge on how to create buildings that could withstand the earth’s tremors that they’d been forced to learn at the end of the First Age. 

She made her way back to camp as the last rays of the sun sank below the horizon. She found Celebrimbor sitting on a rock, still humming with the happiness of someone who had spent the past hour talking about his greatest passions. 

She sat down next to him and lightly kicked his leg. “This is the place.” Celebrimbor grinned at her and handed her a half empty bottle. They knocked their bottles together and drank to their future city.


	2. The Carrot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Narvi is uneasy in Ost-in-Edhil

A soft _clink_ came from the back of the workshop. Narvi sat up straight, all of his senses alert. He had come to Ost-in-Edhil as a gesture of friendship with their new trading partners, the Gwaith-i-Mírdain. Their forges were wondrous and their workshops had every tool and material one could wish for, but Narvi felt very exposed above ground. What was worse, Ost-in-Edhil kept its gates open at all times, and even if they were closed, Narvi didn’t think much of their sturdiness. 

He had tried to tactfully breach the subject of gates with Lord Celebrimbor, but he had been assured that the open gates and their delicate craftsmanship were quite intentional. 

“The time for hidden cities and shut gates is over. Ost-in-Edhil is open to all, be they travelers, craftsmen, or merchants.”

That was all well and good, but a policy of openness was one thing in the daylight, surrounded by other stout dwarves, and was quite another in the darkened workshop, alone with only the beads he’d been making. 

_Clink_. There it was again. Narvi cursed himself for deciding a good solution to insomnia was doing some easy work in the workshops. Better to stay in his rooms at night, where he could bar the door and see all four walls easily. Living above ground was not to his tastes. 

Narvi crept towards the sound, determined not to be taken unawares. There was a sound of fabric rasping together from behind some shelves. Narvi grabbed the first thing that came to hand and flung himself around the shelves.

“Show yourself!” he yelled, brandishing his weapons.

“Ah!” Lord Celebrimbor jumped back from him, hands raised. 

Narvi let out a breath, suddenly feeling very embarrassed. “Lord Celebrimbor. I heard a noise, and being unaccustomed to your city, I may have jumped to a foolish conclusion.”

“Is that a carrot?” Celebrimbor asked, looking at Narvi’s raised arm, where he was indeed brandishing a carrot. 

“So it is,” Narvi said, equally surprised.

Celebrimbor’s mouth twitched. “You’re in a workshop full of sharp and heavy implements, and you choose to attack with a carrot? The courage of dwarves is truly legendary.”

The adrenaline from first thinking he was in danger and then realizing he had threatened one of the lords of the city was fading. Celebrimbor looked a great deal less imposing without the circlet and jewels of office he had been wearing earlier that day. With pulled back hair and a leather apron, he looked downright familiar, the unearthly air that Narvi associated with the bright-eyed elves gone.

“I could ask you what a carrot is doing in your workshop,” Narvi said gruffly.

Celebrimbor shrugged. “Who knows? Inspiration for coloring? A chemical experiment? A weapon in case of invasion? A snack? This is a shared space — I assume someone had a good reason to put it here.” He touched a stone in the wall and it began softly glowing. “What are you working on at this late hour?”

“Some beads. Nothing special; I just came here because I couldn’t sleep.”

Celebrimbor nodded sympathetically. “I also could not sleep. It’s my own fault for waking so late this morning.” He looked speculatively at Narvi. “If what you’re working on is not so urgent, maybe you can help me with my project?”

“Perhaps,” Narvi said cautiously. Indeed, working with the Gwaith-i-Mírdain was part of why he had come to Ost-in-Edhil. He had thought that they would begin with a bit more formality though. Starting a project with another was a serious undertaking for a dwarf.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said about our gates. It’s been bothering me; you’re right you know — they are not very sturdy. I still believe in the principle of a mostly symbolic barrier, but there’s no need to sacrifice beauty for strength.”

Narvi perked up. This was good news indeed. “I think I can help you there.”

“Good.” Celebrimbor unrolled a piece of parchment and set down some paperweights to keep it open. “Here’s what we’re working with.”


	3. The Match

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Galadriel shows her competitive side (Gen)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For [undercat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/undercat/pseuds/undercat), who wanted Galadriel playing sports.

Galadriel stood on the field victorious, her enemies fallen around her. There was nothing in the world like the feeling of resoundly defeating an opponent. 

“Seventy-one to nine,” she called.

One of the fallen elves struggled to his feet. “My lady, we could call the match right now.”

“We have only started the second half!” Galadriel exclaimed. “Come on, line up.” She jogged to the center and held up her hands for the ball.

As she set the ball down at the exact midpoint of the field, she watched as her team lined up in the formation they had practiced. They wore their green tunics proudly, the more so for the stains of dirt and sweat. They all crouched, bare legs braced and fists planted on the torn up field, ready to run.

“Tyelperinquar, get your folk lined up!”

Celebrimbor glared at her balefully as he wiped the blood off his face. He wearily gestured to the other Gwaith-i-Mírdain that made up the Black team; they straggled into position. 

Galadriel glanced at the sidelines. The Founders’ Day games were quite popular with the citizens of Eregion, but the annual talcoron match was generally more an excuse to drink and wave things in the air than something that was watched with much interest, unlike some of the other competitions. Afterall, it had been hundreds of years since the outcome of the match had been anything other than a Green victory. 

“Honestly Tyelperinquar, you should practice more than once for the annual game. I think we’re boring the spectators.” Galadriel started practices with her team before the snow had fully melted. Celebrimbor bared his teeth at her. Good. With Celebrimbor focused on taking her down and the rest of his team without a clear strategy, the Greens were sure to score the next point. Celebrimbor at least was fiercely competitive, although he struggled to field a team who saw much point in training for a once a year game. He could be baited though; athletic competitions were just as much a mental game as a physical one, and Galadriel prided herself on excelling in both.

“Min….. Tâd….. Neledh!” Galadriel kicked the ball into the air. It went exactly where she aimed it.


	4. The Compromise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Celeborn's political difficulties (gen)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For [AmethystTribble](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmethystTribble/pseuds/AmethystTribble), who wanted Celeborn and "Let's not and say we did."

Celeborn glared down at the dwarf across from him, as he had been doing for the past five minutes. He didn’t want to be the first to break the silence. Even the dwarf’s breathing irritated him in the empty and echoing council chamber.

He was reasonably sure that he could keep up the silent glare for a while yet, fueling it with outrage over having been abandoned by his wife and the rest of the council to come to an agreement with Lord Thrombar over where the improvements would be made during the brief March thaw. The Gwiaith-i-Mírdain faction hadn’t actually exited with triumphant smirks and crowing, but it had certainly felt that way when Galadriel had linked arms with Celebrimbor, already talking about Spring Festival plans, the two of them for once leaving a council meeting not sniping at each other in Quenya over everyone else’s heads. 

Thrombar sighed heavily. “We are both of a particular temperament, and I have no doubt you have the patience to sit there staring daggers through me until some time next week, but let’s not do that and say we both glared at each other for some time until we both simultaneously broke down.”

“Are you asking me to lie, Dwarf?” Celeborn asked.

Thrombar sighed even more heavily. “So, I would like to use this brief thaw to repair the road to Khazad-dûm. Our carts are damaged almost every time they make the journey which wastes everyone’s time and costs us money. This seems like an obvious use of the crew’s time. Do you disagree?”

“The Sindar quarter has been dealing with standing water in the streets. I find it very telling that your first thought is money and not the comfort of the citizens of Ost-in-Edhil,” Celeborn snapped. 

Thrombar’s eyes flashed. “The Sindar use those roads and benefit from our trade with the Khazad-dûm dwarves the same as the rest of us.”

“Speaking of the Naugrim, I think it’s very telling that you want to spend our resources repairing a road that by rights the folk of Khazad-dûm should repair.”

Thrombar did not respond to the slur. “Only a small portion of the road is where they maintain it, the rest is ours as you very well know. It would be more work in the long run to not repair that portion, and they would see it as a gesture of friendship.”

“And should my people continue wading through freezing water every time they want to leave their houses?”

“See, I don’t think you need the whole crew to fix the issue in the Sindar quarter. If you would just ask Lady Coroniel—”

“I’m sure Coroniel would love to help us,” Celeborn replied, his voice laden with sarcasm.

Thrombar threw his hands up. “And now we are back where we started. I have tried logic and compromise, but if you will not engage, we can go back to glaring at each other.” He settled back in his chair and fixed Celeborn with an unwavering stare. 

_Love, are you still arguing with Thrombar?_ Galadriel spoke into his thoughts, equal parts exasperated and loving.

_We cannot keep bowing to the Gwaith-i-Mírdain. Their faction is gaining more power by the day. I know you don’t wish to think ill of your kinsman Celebrimbor—_

_I know your fears and do not think they are baseless. But surely you can admit that they are right in this. Get one of their own to repair the drains in the Sindar quarter and you will have won in the end anyway_. Galadriel’s amusement reverberated in his mind when she saw that Thrombar had already offered the same.

_Accept his offer. Lady Coroniel will wade into the freezing mud herself to solve the issue._

“Fine!” Celeborn shouted. “If Lady Coroniel will fix the drains, we can send the city builders to repair the road!”

Thrombar almost jumped out of his seat at Celeborn’s outburst. “Agreed! Let’s get this written down and leave this blasted room.”

Celeborn glared as the dwarf gathered parchment and ink. He could feel the city slipping out of his hands by the day.


	5. The Mushroom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annatar makes a mistake (silvergifting)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For [peachBitch1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachBitch1/pseuds/peachBitch1), who just wanted something in Ost-in-Edhil and "Once bitten, twice shy."

Annatar woke up in Celebrimbor’s bed feeling worse than he could remember feeling in centuries. The fact that he was even waking up was a bad sign — he typically didn’t need sleep; his fëa was separated from his hröa in such a way that sleep wasn’t necessary for the storage and capture of memory.

He blearily felt across the bed. The other side was cold and the blankets were undisturbed. He couldn’t even claim that he ended up here as part of his plan to seduce Celebrimbor; a successful seduction typically required at least two people in bed at the end of it. 

He tried to remember what had happened last night. Tani was in town and she had brought an array of exotic goods as usual. The Khazad-dûm dwarves were good for more than mithril; they also provided access to a vast trading network east of the Misty Mountains. This time she hadn’t brought fine fabrics and beautiful glasswork; instead she had spread out an array of dried mushrooms, each a more alarming combination of colors than the last.

“We tried some of these when my kin brought them to Khazad-dûm,” Tani said. “A monochrome fabric will look like a rainbow, you’ll feel heat and cold like you’ve never felt before, and problems that have been locked deep in your mind will come springing out. But you have to be careful — if you consume them with darkness in your heart you might spend the whole night screaming.”

Annatar knew from the first sentence that passed Tani’s lips that the Gwaith-i-Mírdain who were gathered around the dwarf were going to try the mushrooms, even if the consequences she had described were twice as likely and twice as dangerous. He also knew that her description was accurate. He had encountered such plants in his journeys in the east and seen them used by sages and torturers alike. 

When they gathered in their corner of the common room that evening with a jar full of sweet fruit and nut paste that would be their vehicle for the mushrooms, Annatar had tried to demur.

“Eating a fungus is not going to grant me any insights I don’t already have. Besides, I don’t even metabolize the chemical components that create the psychedelic effect.”

“But couldn’t you change that?” Celebrimbor asked.

“Yes…” The next question was inevitable.

“Don’t you want to try it with us? You might not discover anything you didn’t already know, but you won’t know until you try.”

“It would be a waste,” Annatar tried as a last ditch attempt.

Celebrimbor squeezed his hand under the table. “There is plenty for us all to share.”

“Fine.” Some time later he needed to figure out why he always caved when Celebrimbor asked him to do something. It could potentially interfere with things. “If we really are set on ingesting strange mushrooms on the word of a dwarvish trader—” Tavi made a noise of protest. “We should try to only consume the mushrooms. Other mind-altering substances like alcohol should be avoided; they will only interfere.”

From his position curled up in Celebrimbor’s bed, Annatar eyed an empty wine bottle cast on the floor. He vaguely remembered making the smallest alternation to his liver so that he could feel the effects of the mushrooms. Was that the error? Or was it the alcohol he must have ingested? Or did he have more than one mushroom, or even worse, multiple kinds of mushrooms?

He remembered Celebrimbor pressing the drug against his lips and smiling widely as Annatar did the same. He remembered being convinced that he’d made the alteration to his liver too subtle as he laughed at his friends discovering their own fingers, the grain of the table, and the bubbles in a fermented drink. He remembered Celebrimbor pressing his face to Annatar’s neck, murmuring about colors so beautiful he couldn’t bear to see. And he had told him to look because even if he forgot in the morning it was worth the joy of seeing now. Annatar had not been looking at the candlelight, or the condensation on the glasses, or listening to the rippling ebb of voices; he had been staring at Celebrimbor’s face.

That was the last coherent memory. He dragged himself upright and dourly eyed the trail of clothes that led to the bed. He couldn’t imagine the state he had been in to throw his clothes on the ground with no thought to their upkeep or proper place.

_Physical sensations are only temporary. Pain is meaningless,_ Annatar thought to himself as he slowly put on a linen shirt and carefully folded the rest of his garments and set them on a table. He picked up the empty wine bottle, grimacing the whole time, and finally exited the room.

“You’re up!” Celebrimbor greeted him from his desk with a devastating amount of energy. 

“Yes,” was all he could manage as he took in Celebrimbor, fully dressed and very awake. He took a second glance as he slumped on the couch across from him. His relatively composed state was not quite as impressive as it had been at first; he was wearing the same clothes as yesterday and his braids were definitely on their second day of wear. “Did you sleep at all?”

“No. After I helped you to bed, I stayed up all night writing on colorimetry.” He gestured at the stack of paper next to him. “No promises that it’s comprehensible though,” he said with a wry smile.

“Aren’t you tired?” Annatar found Celebrimbor’s complete disregard for what one might term healthy habits concerning at the best of times, but more and more he was wondering how he’d survived the First Age.

“Not at all! Look what else Tavi brought us.” Celebrimbor thrust a mug of pungent liquid towards him. Annatar recognized another familiar plant from the east: a bean that could be used in several different forms as a stimulant. He had used it in the past as a paste given to slaves to increase productivity. Celebrimbor was of course drinking it as if it were as harmless as water.

“Aren’t you tired of modifying your state of being with chemicals?” he asked.

Celebrimbor just laughed at him. “Actually tonight we were going to try the set of mushrooms we didn’t get to last night. Will you join us?”

“Absolutely not.” While Annatar was not perfect, no matter how he strove for it, he could at least resist making the same mistake two nights in a row. 

“Very well; I don’t think it will be quite as enjoyable without you.” The cool silver eyes were so warm.

“Aren’t you going to sleep at all?” Annatar asked, trying to convey his disapproval. 

Celebrimbor began throwing some things in a bag. “Maybe this afternoon. Lofrik composed a ballad last night, he’s going to perform it soon. Would you like to join me?”

Annatar could think of few things he’d like less in his current state than listening to a dwarvish ballad composed under the influence of psychedelic mushrooms. “I would not.”

Celebrimbor poured him a glass of water and sat on the arm of the couch as Annatar drank it. “Want me to have anything sent here?”

“Just some bread.” He should probably object to being fussed over, but he couldn’t bring himself to say anything. 

Celebrimbor laughed. “I’ll have someone come by. I’ll be back later to try to convince you to join us again tonight.” 

As Celebrimbor left the room, Annatar shuddered at the thought of a repeat of last night. He had been right about one thing at least; the mushrooms had no insights to offer him whatsoever.


	6. The Ring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their shared love language is creation (silvergifting)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For [Enaira](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enaira/pseuds/Enaira), who wanted silvergifting and unusual I love yous.

When the last spell was cast and the metal had fully cooled, Annatar and Celebrimbor stared at the ring for a long while.

“Put it on.”

Celebrimbor searched Annatar’s face. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, you should try it first.”

Celebrimbor picked up the ring, weighing it in his hand for a time. The gold band had three clusters of blue stones and seemed heavier than it should be for its size. This ring was just a first test, but Celebrimbor had still wanted to make it a thing of beauty, even if it ended up just being a simple piece of jewelry.

He glanced up. Annatar met his gaze, staring so intently Celebrimbor thought he should feel self-conscious. He didn’t. He slipped the ring on his finger. 

The difference was slight, but there was no doubt that the ring worked as intended. He ran his fingers over a piece of paper on the table. It was more than paper: it was a tree, it was a plan, it was a collection of pieces not unlike himself, and it was Song. He had known all that before, but now he knew the pine tree it had been, the structure of its parts, and the notes of its Song. 

“It’s as you said.” Celebrimbor stared at the ring on his finger, using its own power to see the perfect structure of the materials it was made of, and the perfect structure of the spells they had woven amid its parts.

“It’s as you designed,” Annatar replied. 

Celebrimbor opened his mind so that Annatar could understand what he now understood. As his thoughts rushed towards what it all meant, Annatar laughed.

“A moment!” He grabbed a writing utensil and pulled the piece of paper towards him. Show me.  
Celebrimbor began to unspool his thoughts, the subtle insights the ring gave him traveling through him, to Annatar, to spin into a plan for something even greater.


	7. The Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Celebrimbor and Coroniel when everything should be going well (silvergifting).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For [Ibrithir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ibrithir), who also drew some [lovely art!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/ibrithir-was-here/643795101312745472)

Celebrimbor walked out onto the porch, the air suddenly cool after the crowded, warm party inside the Guild Hall. He leaned against the wall next to Coroniel.

“I’d say this was another successful Founder’s Day celebration,” Celebrimbor said. Coroniel only hummed in response, her gaze faraway as she looked at the stars.

They remained in silence for a time, watching the twinkling lights of the city below and light of the stars above.

Coroniel broke the silence. “Being a star must be lonely.” 

Celebrimbor looked up to where Coroniel was looking at Eärendil. “It’s strange to think the child we cared for during all those long miles from Gondolin to Sirion is up there, sailing across the sky.” It was strange on a personal and a physical level, but he knew Coroniel wasn’t in the mood to listen to him ramble about the potential properties of light that would allow something as small as a Silmaril shine like Eärendil did.

“What kind of judgment is that? To doom someone to an eternity of the same journey over and over, for daring to be the messenger of a dying people.”

Celebrimbor looked over, surprised at Coroniel’s bitterness. They were at the end of a merry day, celebrating a prosperous year; he had thought all of the Gwaith-i-Mírdain were sharing in the joy. His own personal happiness might be coloring the world tonight though. He thought back to earlier that day and the unexpected kiss that had been spinning in his mind all day. 

Coroniel scrubbed her hands over her face. “I’m being foolish. There’s no reason to think back to old quarrels I have tonight, as if it even matters what one Elf thinks of the Valar’s judgments. Besides, it seems we are not completely forgotten again — Annatar has been a good addition to Ost-in-Edhil.”

Celebrimbor glanced over at her quickly, surprised to hear the name he’d been thinking about aloud and also remembering every creeping doubt he’d ever had about who exactly sent Annatar. 

He ran his fingers over the broach that had been a gift from Annatar, thinking about opaque, golden eyes, soft lips on his, and lightly calloused hands closing over his own.

“Yes,” he said softly. “This is a good thing.”


	8. The Comparison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-reincarnation, Celebrimbor catches Aredhel up on how her cousin Galadriel is doing. (Gen)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally written for Finwean ladies week 2020 — I thought it fit with this collection.

“So, she and Celeborn married finally?” Írissë asked.

“Yes, and they have a wonderful daughter, Celebrían,” Celebrimbor replied.

“And I suppose Celeborn has tried to kill neither Galadriel nor Celebrían?” Írissë looked glum.

“I highly doubt he’s attempted any sort of murder. Celeborn never tried to kill me, and I think I irritated him far more than his wife or daughter.” Celebrimbor snagged a roll that still remained on the table. 

“To be fair, I may have voted against him every time I had the chance to on the High Council of Eregion.” He frowned, trying to put into words why he found Celeborn as irritating in return. “He had very regressive ideas concerning dwarves.”

Írissë had no interest in dwarves; she’d only had negative experiences with them in Nan Elmoth. It was likely that Eöl had forbidden them from speaking with her when they visited. She still only associated them with cold glances and chilling silences.

“And again, she manages to choose the virtuous, handsome kinsman of Elu Thingol, who doesn’t go around murdering his family or creating evil swords.” Írissë sighed. “I suppose it’s too much to hope that Celebrían only inherited the worst of her parents’ traits?”

“No, Celebrían is a delight: bold, intelligent, and kind. She manages to blend the best of Celeborn and Galadriel in her temperament.”

Írissë sighed again. She thought her own son Maeglin had many fine qualities, but being delightful was not one of them. A thought occurred to her.

“But, she does not yet have her own realm, am I right?”

“Well, Amroth ruled in Lothlórien last I had heard, but according to my friends, she ruled in his absence during the siege of Ost-in-Edhil and is held in high regard there still.”

“It’s only a matter of time - I’m sure she will end up ruling Lothlorien eventually.” Írissë had no skill in foresight, only the fatalistic certainty that those doomed to always finish second eventually develop.

“You know, if there was ever a competition between you, I don’t think Galadriel was ever told.” Celebrimbor gave her a sidelong glance.

Írissë shook her head. “I’m being silly. I don’t think you understand though; we are the sole two granddaughters of Finwë, born in the same year and raised like sisters. The comparison was inevitable - and I could never measure up.”

“I may understand some,” Celebrimbor said. Although he had no siblings or almost-siblings that he had had to strive with, comparisons with someone who he could never live up to was a familiar experience.

Írissë brightened. “At least I have one thing over her! I now have my very own Fëanorian smith. I’m sure you never crafted anything for her as fine as what you’ve made for me.” She admired the gold bracelet on her wrist that was one of the many pieces of jewelry Celebrimbor had made for her. The fine wirework depicted an interlocking design of dragonflies with opalescent wings. It had already set off a craze for all things dragonfly in Tirion when she had last visited.

Celebrimbor avoided replying by stuffing an entire roll in his mouth.


	9. The Hobbits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo is happy to share Shire customs with Celebrimbor and Coroniel. (Gen)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For [elennalore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elennalore/pseuds/elennalore), who asked for something with Coroniel and odd hobbies.

“You’d like to try? Really?” Bilbo was thrilled. Tol Eressëa was a wonderful place. The weather was almost always lovely, there was excellent food and drink that never ran out, and best of all he could speak to many of the legends of the Elder Days himself. In fact, they frequently came to visit him and Frodo in the cottage they had on the outskirts of Avallónë. Just yesterday Finrod Felagund had visited, as wise and merry as Bilbo had always thought he’d be.

Today, he and Frodo had the honor of a visit from one of the greatest elven craftsmen who had ever lived, Celebrimbor of Hollin. Bilbo had briefly met him when they arrived at Tol Eressëa, but those first few weeks had been such a whirlwind of introductions and wonderment that Bilbo hadn’t really had a chance to talk to him until today.

When he’d heard that he wished to visit with his friend, Coroniel of Hollin, he’d been delighted and told him to come over at his earliest possible convenience. They’d had hours of good conversation in the garden over an endless array of snacks and tea. Celebrimbor and Coroniel had as many questions about hobbits as he had about Eregion, and the time had flown by. When he realized that they also could provide another perspective on Gondolin, Bilbo had almost been overwhelmed by the new round of questions he had for them.

“This calls for a pipe,” he announced. Celebrimbor and Coroniel had watched fascinated as he lit up his pipe and blew a few smoke rings. After further interrogation, and a regretful remark from Frodo that it was too bad Meriadoc Brandybuck wasn’t here to share his research into pipeweed, Celebrimbor asked if they could try smoking.

Frodo chuckled. “I’ve been told many times that elves don’t enjoy wreathing themselves in smoke.”

“I’ve spent much of my life surrounded by various fumes; I’m sure at the very least it won’t harm me,” Celebrimbor replied. 

“Well, then. I think we both have a spare pipe, don’t we Frodo my lad?” Bilbo said. “I’ll run into the house and grab them.”

He returned with matches, two more pipes, and more pipeweed. They had brought a whole cask of the stuff to the Blessed Lands, and they had already given some thought into how they could find the same plants in Valinor. The stories clearly said that every plant that existed in Middle-earth also existed in Valinor, but Bilbo was afraid the strains would be different enough that it wouldn’t be the same experience. At the very least, he was very sure they’d never find something as good as Old Toby. As far as he was concerned, that was even more of a reason to share their precious pipeweed with their curious guests — how often could one provide immortal beings with something they had never experienced before?

He helped them fill the bowls of the pipes and lit the leaf as Coroniel and Celebrimbor drew on the stems. Soon they were all puffing merrily away. To his surprise there was no coughing or waving the smoke away from the elves, although they did amuse themselves by blowing smoke in each other’s faces for a time. 

“How did you shape those rings?” Coroniel asked after a few puffs on the pipe.

“Ah, now that is a skill that takes some practice, although I’ve always found your folk to be quite quick on the uptake,” Bilbo said. “I’ll try to show you how. First, draw a full mouthful of smoke.” Two pairs of eyes, one silver and the other brown, watched avidly and drew in their own mouthfuls of smoke.

Bilbo realized at this point that verbalizing the technique would be a bit difficult. He tried anyway from the corner of his mouth.

“Pruss yur tun don,” Bilbo said. Both pairs of eyes widened slightly as they followed his instruction.

“Then shuck yur cheekf in end make an ‘o’ es ye bluh.” He blew a little ring out with the smoke that had managed to stay in his mouth. Celebrimbor and Coroniel just managed to blow out slightly more concentrated clouds of smoke. 

Eventually, with a bit more instruction not obstructed by smoke, the two elves were beginning to blow small rings.

“Well done!” Frodo said, after a mid-sized ring from Coroniel. “You’ll be matching Gandalf soon enough, although I think he cheats with magic.”

“Magic? How does one use magic for this practice?” Coroniel asked.

“I’m not sure, but Gandalf can make all manner of shapes, like ships and dragons and flowers, appear from his smoke.” 

“Oh! I suppose you could just shape the air currents as you blow out,” Celebrimbor said thoughtfully and then proceeded to blow a perfect spiral shape.

Coroniel rolled her eyes. “Don’t mind him. He’s just as much of an outrageous show off as the rest of his family.” She blew a second smoke ring, slightly larger than the last one she’d attempted, with a look of intense concentration on her face. “I will continue honing the practice in the authentic manner of your people.”

Bilbo laughed. “I’m sure you’ll be able to match me in smoke rings in no time. Now tell me about Gondolin. Was it really as beautiful as Tirion?”


End file.
